I Love My Life

Essentially I had finally taken responsibility for the choices I had made that brought me to where I was today. In doing so, I needed to forgive myself for all the ways I failed and self-sabotaged. Being unaware that I was doing so felt rather irrelevant at that point. I've never liked endings; the end of a good movie or a good book where the characters have become so familiar they feel like family, when their stories reflect my own, or their hopes and dreams mirror my own heartfelt longings. Yet, when I turn the last page or watch the credits roll I know I'll find a new story tomorrow. Hope is a sturdy stepping stone. I now realized I had spent many years in the self-made story I chose to live, only to find out how little the real me had in common with the character and the part I played. Yet, all those parts of her became familiar enough for me to imagine she was real. As I ventured forth with hope and trepidation, I felt so grateful that I had come this far. I thanked God and the universe that part of my story had ended and that I had consciously turned the last page. I believed I could still find my happily ever after in which the real me comes to life in a brand new chapter. That summer passed unawares, and as fall began to settle into the deep, dark cold of a Canadian winter I would truly begin the healing journey that would help me find my way home to myself. I realized that I had braved a wilderness of woe, through the death of loved ones, through Cancer and divorce. I was feeling fragile and vulnerable in the pain of it all. My body, my heart, my very soul was screaming out in pain. That winter would indeed become the dark night of my soul. This year from hell would become the most spiritually awakening time for me. Even as I traversed through the darkness, even when it felt scary or crazy-making, something inside of me told me that I would be traveling toward the light of understanding -- an ascension and a true rebirth of my soul self. Though sometimes messy and often intense, I knew that surrendering into the present moment of whatever I was feeling was the only way to get through it. There is absolutely no way around it, you must go through it. Renowned poet Robert Frost said, "The best way out is always through." Being willing to be in it, however uncomfortable, allowed me to move forward. Eventually, I learned to make peace with what I was feeling, seeing, and experiencing. I needed to believe that I was not broken, despite pain in my body and all the emotional scars from the past. I had sheltered in place, and the casualty had been that of my heart in a million little pieces around me. And yet through it all I had hope. I could feel myself beginning to mend, as surely as a scab forms over an open wound only to get smaller and smaller every time you rip it off. I ripped that scab off over and over again. On New Years Eve of that year, I went out with a group of friends, and saying goodbye to the old year while welcoming in the new one was more nostalgic than ever before. I danced to the beat of an old rock and roll song, and as the clock struck midnight, and good wishes were handed out with hugs and kisses, I struggled to hold back my tears. I wasn't feeling sad. I wasn't feeling worried, or stressed or uncomfortable. I was just feeling fragile. I prayed for the strength to stop thinking about yesterday, and welcome in tomorrow whole heartedly.